


Bitch Pack

by LunaPadma



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: BAMF Leah Clearwater, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Folklore, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaPadma/pseuds/LunaPadma
Summary: Or, how Leah learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.(Does she smile, or does she mouth "Fuck you forever?")
Comments: 21
Kudos: 63





	1. Cold Was The Steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart.

It starts, as it always does, because Leah Clearwater is a disagreeable bitch.

It’s Rachel Black’s first bonfire, and it begins with Leah walking up to her and announcing, as loudly as humanly possible, “So heads up, Paul and I used to fuck.”

Every werewolf in hearing distance, which is all of them because _holy shit_ could Leah be any louder, freezes. They’re equal parts shocked by the news and horrified by her frankness, and it’s especially weird because werewolves have that whole telepathic pack thing. You can’t keep secrets—especially not “I’m fucking a packmate” secrets—from telepaths. Some people think she’s full of it, but a glance at the now-very-pale Paul will confirm that she’s absolutely not.

Unlike literally everyone else at the bonfire, Rachel seems completely unfazed. She looks Leah up and down, then gives Paul the same treatment. When she turns back to Leah, she says, deadpan, “So, uh, this the best you could do, or…?”

“Broken vibrator,” Leah explains. “I was desperate.”

“Ah.” Rachel nods, as if that’s an excuse to fuck someone, probably repeatedly. “Well. He any good?”

Someone—probably Embry—makes a squeaking noise. Leah smiles. It’s not her usual “I’m a disagreeable bitch being evil” smile. This is her “I’ve found my bitch soulmate” smile. It’s far more terrifying. “He’s got no imagination, but he is excellent at following directions,” she says. “Better with his hands than his tongue. He remembers what you like, which is good, and—you’re welcome—I taught him this great move you’re gonna love. Ask him about the Finisher. My gift to you.”

“Thanks,” Rachel says, and the scariest part is it sounds genuine.

“You’re already doing better with him than the rest of these assholes,” Leah says, still way too loudly. Especially considering that her mother is here. “Sam Uley over there? Refused to touch my vag entirely. If I didn’t come on penetration alone, I didn’t come.”

If the Pack thought that the Paul thing was the worst Leah could throw? No. Leah Clearwater will ruin everyone’s night to get what she wants, which is everyone exactly as miserable as she is. The thing about the Pack is that you don’t disrespect Sam. You don’t talk shit about Sam. Sam is your God and Sam help anyone who forgets this.

Unless thy name is Leah Clearwater, who Sam is clearly still afraid of, because he doesn’t say _shit_. Her delighted smirk proves that she knows this, and she _revels_ in it. If the day ever comes where “hey remember when you dumped me and immediately fucked my cousin” stops working, then Leah Clearwater is screwed, but until that day comes, Leah Clearwater is goddamn untouchable. Let no one forget.

“And so, of course, you never came,” Rachel finishes, as if that is the logical conclusion. By Leah’s smile, it absolutely is. Rachel snaps her fingers at one of the newest Pack members—Brady—and says imperiously, “You. Go get this poor martyr a drink. And _you_ ,” she points at Leah, “you sit by me because you seem like fun.”

Leah grins.

Everyone else cowers in terror.


	2. Ferociously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I used to scream ferociously.

It isn’t fair to say that nobody thinks about Leah naked. Leah is, by all accounts, one of the hottest girls on the reservation that isn’t in a long-term relationship. She has a six-pack and is in all other respects equally jacked, which is pretty intimidating, but she also has curves, and her ass—borne primarily out of squats, single-minded rage, and uphill runs every time Sam pisses her off, which is approximately twice a day—can and has stopped traffic. In her own opinion, her magnificent ass almost makes up for the fact that she dropped a cup size since becoming a werewolf. That she has no modesty in changing in front of the Pack (practically daring them to look; _you see, men, this is what a natural bush looks like, don’t be afraid, it won’t bite_ ) only compounds this.

It is much more accurate to say that nobody thinks about Leah naked more than once.

You can only hope that it’s one of the normies who catches you, Embry or Jacob or Jared or Quil or the newbies, because they at least pity the ass-beating that Leah is about to bestow upon you. Seth laughs about the entire thing on the way to get his sister and then sits back, still laughing, to watch the carnage as Leah serves your ass back to you on a platter. Paul is similar, except he likes to supply more and dirtier mental pictures until Leah shows up and kicks both your asses.

Sam? Every time he catches you doing it, he sinks into a mire of self-loathing and guilt, with the hint of a shame boner.

When Leah catches you herself, she makes the whole Pack watch the ensuing carnage.

* * *

Leah and Rachel would get brunch weekly if La Push were the kind of place that actually had brunch spots and they were the kind of people that actually had money, so instead they periodically meet up at one of their houses and make pancakes. They usually pick a day when the Pack is all doing brunch at Emily’s. Leah refuses to go there, and Rachel is loyal to a fault.

“So I’ve figured you out,” Rachel says, making a number of pancakes for the two girls and also Paul, who promised to stop by in a little bit. “Hear me out.”

Leah doesn’t really care what people say—she’s heard literally everything at this point—so she sits down and listens to what Rachel has to say.

“You’re a bitch,” Rachel says, and seriously? Like that’s news. Leah says as much.

“Hear me out, though. You’re a bitch. But why are you letting those Pack fuckers make you a heinous one instead of a boss one?”

Leah pauses, ready to argue. Then she thinks about it. _Really_ thinks about it. “Holy shit,” she says. “That’s so real. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Rachel says soothingly. “You just need to realign your priorities. Step one is stop it, with all the Sam and Emily bullshit. You’re too good for them. And step two—”

“Jesus,” Leah can’t help but say. “How many steps are there?”

“Just the two. Step two is get all this _shit_ under control. I’m thinking some yoga, a fair amount of meditation. Maybe talking some shit out with a counselor. It can all help.” Rachel leans in. “ _Be_ the boss bitch that I know you are. Be the boss bitch that makes the Pack fear you.”

Leah nods.

She buys two meditation tapes and a yoga DVD the next day.


	3. Wishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed--look at how my tears ricochet.

When the Pack splits, she dawdles, but it’s really a no-brainer. Stay with her brother, get away from Sam, something something innocent lives whatever, versus brunch with Rachel and not having to pretend to care about vampires.

Psh. Like Rachel would let impending war stop their bitch sessions.

Leah writes a note and gets the hell out.

Jacob is _pissed_.

Leah gets it, kind of. Not everyone is Rachel Black, understanding her particular brand of Bitch. But also? She’s literally the fastest fucker on the planet, Sam’s pack now has seven wolves, and the Black Pack now knows what they’re gonna try and pull. She might be distinctly unpleasant, but dammit if she isn’t a valuable asset.

Men.

She’s gotten better on the temper thing—equal parts yoga, meditation, and the high school guidance counselor Ms. King—so she doesn’t go apeshit on the whole thing. Instead, she puts her head down and gets to work.

Women have to work twice as hard for half the recognition, but Leah will be damned if she doesn’t earn that recognition. She’s a boss-ass bitch, after all, and this pack leader hasn’t seen her naked on purpose, which is already a plus.

Leah’s aiming for the Beta spot, and she’ll not be losing to Seth.

* * *

The worst thing is, she _does_ kind of get where Blondie (the chick one, because these vampires are whiter than the cast of _One Tree Hill_ ) is coming from. About the kid thing only, because Leah actually can’t bring herself to care if Bella Swan and her Satan-Spawn live or die, as long as they have the decency not to do it near her.

And it’s not like being sterile (or barren, or whatever the fuck euphemism is at the top of _Infertility Today!_ ) is Leah’s biggest problem. It ranks a distant twelfth, after 1) being a genetic freak of nature, the freakishness of which 2) killed her father and 3) automatically conscripted her to a lifetime of sharing thoughts with teenage boys until she either died or “grew out of it,” because 4) she’s also now functionally immortal, so she’s 5) been stuck taking orders from her ex-boyfriend, who 6) dumped her for her cousin and 7) still has the audacity to feel guilty about the whole damn thing and 8) somehow sucks up all the sympathy in the room, even though _he_ dumped _her_ and 9) mauled said cousin, who 10) doesn’t appear to have any problem with the assaulter sharing her bed every night and 11) still wants Leah to be in the wedding for some godforsaken reason. So yeah, not being able to have kids is really only the cherry on top of the shit-sundae that is Leah Clearwater’s life.

But, like, it still sucks.

Leah didn’t think she could ever have missed her period. Periods, as a rule, blow. Even if, like Leah, you tend towards slight cramps the night before it starts and some mild boob soreness on days one and two. But there’s nothing like a kick in the tits when you were already down and out about not being enough of a chick to avoid a curse that everyone just assumed was Y-chromosome based.

Anyway. She isn’t—god, she absolutely isn’t—Team Baby. But she, you know, understands wanting kids (you know, at some point in the future, because Leah is twenty and _will not_ flush her life away for some sperm-laden asshole when the statistics say she’d end up high, dry, and with between one and three babies) and knowing that it’s probably not in the cards.

Men don’t get it. Men can’t get it, because men haven’t been told since day one that they’re wombs with two legs. And Leah’s a product of about three different feminist movements, so she can’t even imagine what it’s like for the Glampire, whose eggs clearly froze in the twenties.

Ugh. Camaraderie with vampires. Everything sucked.


	4. Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not your problem anymore, so who am I offending?

Jared tries to tempt her back to Sam’s pack, which is honestly _hilarious_ , because Jared has been terrified of her since the first grade when she threw a paintbrush at him and ruined his Ninja Turtles t-shirt. The only person who wants her back less than Jared is Sam himself, but he’s too much of a pussy to admit _that_ either.

She can tell Jared is phoning the whole thing in about as hard as he possibly can while still following Alpha Rules. She knows this because he opens with “Your mom misses you,” like Susan Clearwater wouldn’t pick her kids over literally anything else. “Loyal Pack Elder,” her ass.

Leah doesn’t pay a ton of attention to whatever he says after that, because frankly, she doesn’t care that he knows she doesn’t like raw meat or whatever. And, honestly, who does? She’s still a person; she shouldn’t have to eat around _fur._

But then Jared really completes the phoning by calling her “Lee-lee,” and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Leah is all self-actualized and shit, she would rip his dick off.

Or at the very least, ruin another Ninja Turtles tee. She knows he still has one.

Across the circle, Paul winks.

* * *

Leah runs into Paul on patrol the next day.

It’s pretty clear he’s waiting for her. He’s wearing a shirt and everything.

“Sup, Clearwater?” he asks.

Leah wouldn’t bother to respond even if she weren’t a wolf right now, so instead she rolls her eyes and makes as if to leave. While Paul is a significantly better choice than Jared was, she’ll still maim him if he tries anything. She doesn’t care that Paul was her one-time fuck buddy, or that he’s her BFF’s current boy toy. She’s not going back.

“Rachel asked me to pass a message to you,” he says. “Quote, Emily has one of those stupid brunch things planned today. Let’s go to Bancroft’s. Ten thirty. Unquote.”

Leah pauses. Bancroft’s, one of those slightly grody diners that serves the best pancakes in the state of Washington, is firmly in Forks. It’s vamp territory. What the hell is he trying to pull?

“Jesus, Clearwater, it’s not a trap,” Paul says. “For the record, I think you made the right call. Don’t get me wrong, Jake’s a prick, but so’s Sam, especially when you’re involved. Plus, this whole schism thing is the only reason Sam hasn’t beaten the shit out of me for sleeping with you. He can’t afford to lose anyone else. Are you going or what?”

Leah considers this. This would be the absolute dumbest trap known to man: broad daylight, tons of people, significant risks of exposure. Everyone in both Packs knows that Leah does not go gentle into the good night—Quil still has the bite marks to prove it—so even rallying troops would be a goddamn nightmare.

What the hell? She deserves it. She nods.

* * *

“Can’t patrol anymore,” Leah says, bare-bushing it into the Vamp foyer. Dimly, she recognizes that this is the first time she’s seeing the vamps as an actual human. It’s weird, and not just because Leah’s naked. “I’m getting brunch with your sister.”

“Absolutely not,” Jacob snaps immediately. He spins around to glare at her, then immediately flinches away. “ _Jesus_ , will you put some clothes on?”

“What’s your damage?” Leah asks. “Tell me why you think brunching with your sister at Bancroft’s, in a public place, in Forks, at ten-thirty in the morning is dangerous? The only thing dangerous about Bancroft’s is the health code violations.” Out of deference to her alpha, she reaches into the coat closet and slips on a bathrobe that someone—probably the ginger—had stashed there.

“It could be a trap.”

Leah scoffs. “Trust me, I know Sam. This isn’t his kind of trap.”

Jacob is silent for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out how best to articulate his anger. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone,” he says finally. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t exactly at peace here.”

Leah sighs, more to show her dissatisfaction than to really disagree. She supposes it isn’t _complete_ bullshit. “Fine. Do you want to get brunch with me and my friend?”

The Glampire has the audacity to look behind her, like it’s possible Leah was going to invite the pregnant freak to brunch with Rachel. “Are you talking to me?” she asks.

“Um, obviously,” Leah says, right as Jacob says, “Of course not.”

“Seriously, Leah? You want her?”

“If I have to take a buddy, then absolutely. Have you seen my options?” Leah demands. “You and Seth are our brothers, immediate pass. For your sake, not mine. And as for the others—” she points at each vampire in turn— “old, creepy, creepy, sexist, old, creepy—” and then at Bella, “pregnant.”

“I have to stay with Bella,” the Glampire snaps.

Leah rolls her eyes. “Seth, make sure no one gets within six feet of Bella when we’re gone.”

“I really don’t think that’s—”

“I’ll give you my Ken Griffey Junior poster,” she offers. Seth’s eyes narrow and, almost faster than Leah can follow, he shoves the blond creepy one off of the couch’s armrest. The vamp swears in what sounded like Korean.

“No takebacks,” he says.

“Problem solved,” Leah says, falsely sweet. “Brunch. Let’s take your convertible.”


	5. A friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

It is not convertible weather.

It’s September and foggy as all hell, maybe 53 degrees. Leah doesn’t care. She slips on a pair of (the old one’s) jeans, a band tee someone said was the blond creepy one’s, and a wholly impractical pair of rhinestone flip flops (that are the tiny creepy one’s favorite, apparently), and waits in the convertible’s passenger seat.

The Glampire stalks down the driveway, throws herself in the driver’s seat, and screams out onto the road like…well, like a bat out of Hell.

Leah doesn’t particularly mind. She’d rather go fast than slow—it’s why she runs the way she does. She gazes out of the window and drums her fingers on the top of the door.

“Why’d you really pick me?” the Glampire asks suddenly.

Leah blinks. “I told you. You’re not creepy, old, or related to me.”

“I’m ninety-four.”

Ew. Immortality is kind of horrifying. Leah makes a mental note to stop phasing as soon as possible. “Look,” she says. “Much as it pains me to say this, I think we might actually be kindred spirits.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “How so?”

Leah shrugs. “We both can’t stand Bella Swan?”

For a hot second, the Glampire almost looks human as she grins, eyes alight in the idea that someone else might not like that pregnant leech-fucker. It dies all too soon. “At least your brother isn’t married to her,” she says instead, bitch-mask snapping back on.

Leah turns to look out her window. She drums her fingers on the top of the door. “Yeah,” she agrees. “But our parents are banging.”

The Glampire literally almost crashes the car.

* * *

Okay, it’s not like Leah _wants_ to know that her mother is, well, saving a horse and riding a sheriff.

It’s just that she came home a few nights ago—after the shitshow, where Seth and Jake split off and the world is opening up for the first time in six months—and Charlie Swan’s Chevy was parked four houses down, and his scent was in the kitchen, and his voice was coming from her mom’s bedroom, and…

And two plus two makes four, in Leah’s experience.

He’d found her, as he crept out of their house at four-thirty in the morning. Leah had spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, trying like hell not to lose her cool, not to phase in her kitchen for the second time and let everyone know that Susan Clearwater was nailing the Forks Chief of Police/Father of the Leech-Fucker.

“Leah!’ Charlie jumps. “I was just—your mother and I were just—”

“Fucking,” Leah says, deadpan. “My mother and you were just fucking.”

Charlie deflates slightly. “Yeah.”

“How long has this been going on?” Leah asks.

“I really think this is a conversation you should have with Sue—”

“I’m asking you.”

“Um.” He sits heavily at the kitchen table. “A few weeks? We were…well, it just sort of happened.”

Leah takes a deep breath. Ripping her mother’s—ugh, lover? Too hideous to contemplate—whatever’s head off would probably get her thrown in prison. “Why?”

Charlie pauses. “I—one minute we were reminiscing about Harry, and the next—”

“You were nailing his widow?” Leah asks acerbically.

Charlie leans forward, suddenly earnest. “Leah, I loved your dad. He and Billy are the closest things I have to brothers. For a long time, it felt like Sue was the only one who understood what I had lost. Everything else…it came out of that closeness.”

Leah literally doesn’t even know how to respond. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you,” she says finally.

Charlie laughs out loud. “I’m flattered you think that’s possible,” he says, still chuckling. “Your mom is the toughest person I know.” He laughs a bit more. “Don’t worry, Leah,” he says. “If I hurt your mom, I’ll lend you the gun.” He stands, turns to leave. “Sue’s lucky to have you watching her back,” he says.

“Hey, Charlie?” Leah asks, just as he’s out the door. “Don’t tell Seth about this.”

Charlie turns back, and Leah can _hear_ his smile. It only sort of makes her want to hit him. “Tell Seth about what?”

* * *

The parking lot at Bancroft’s is mostly empty, though Leah can already see Paul’s dad’s Toyota parked by the door.

The Glampire screeches into a spot near the entrance, and Leah jumps out. She can’t decide what sounds better—seeing Rachel, or getting pancakes.

“Let’s get this freak parade over with,” the Glampire grumbles. Leah ignores her.

Rachel has already staked out a four-top, and—bless her—there’s already a stack of pancakes at what Leah assumes is her plate. “Leah!” she whisper-shouts.

“Rach!” Leah reciprocates. She dances through the mostly-empty tables and gives Rachel a quick hug before plopping down into the seat across from her. The Glampire looms like a bad habit until Paul, glowering, kicks the seat across from him out slightly. She takes the seat and proceeds to scowl back at him.

“Okay, tell me _everything_ ,” Rachel says. “Paul is the worst, he won’t tell me what’s going on at all.”

“You’re a security risk,” Paul says, unperturbed. “You and Leah tell each other everything.”

“Hey, I stand by that,” Leah says. “What if you gave bad head?”

“She has a point,” Rachel agrees. “What if you gave bad head?”

“Does he?” the Glampire asks suddenly. The three all turn to stare at her. Rolling her eyes, the Glampire repeats the question. “Does he give bad head?”

“No,” Rachel says. “Not anymore, at least. I’m Rachel.” She sticks out a hand to shake, completely ignoring both Paul and Leah’s mutual looks of disgust.

“Rosalie.” She wipes the disdain off her face when she’s shaking Rachel’s hand. It’s probably that gesture alone that stops Paul from ripping her head off and tossing it into the deep fryer.

“Okay, now tell me _everything_. Has Jake fucked up yet? Did Sam lose his shit when you ran off? I need deets.”

“Much as it pains me to say this, your brother…doesn’t suck at it? I mean, I could do without the heart eyes and leech love, but he’s pretty solid.”

“Dad’ll be happy about that. He’s totally conflicted because on the one hand, Jake just took up his Alpha inheritance or some such bullshit, but on the other hand, he did completely walk away from his pack and tribe and some other bullshit for a bunch of white-ass vampires.” Rachel pauses, turns to the Glampire. “No offense.”

Rosalie shakes her head. “None taken. That’s pretty accurate.”

“Your turn,” Leah says. “What’s new on the res?”

Rachel leans in close. “I shit you not—Embry got a mullet.”

Leah straight-up gasps.


	6. my pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn--my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand.

Brunch is deemed over after Leah has eaten four and a half stacks of blueberry pancakes, Rachel has eaten two-thirds of a Denver omelet, and Paul has consumed roughly one quarter of a pig.

“Wait, I almost forgot,” Rachel says. She pulls out a Target bag and hands it to Leah over the dishes. “Your mom and I put together some stuff for you and Seth. Jeans, t-shirts, socks, sports bra. You know, the essentials.”

“Thank you,” Leah says, touched. Not only does this t shirt smell like ass and rep a truly lame band, it’s also itchy.

“I also packed Glen Coco and some birth control pills I found in your bathroom,” Rachel adds. “Just in case.”

God, if Leah didn’t have a reputation as a stone-cold bitch to preserve, she would totally tear up. Rachel is the only one who would think about those little creature comforts. And, not to sound too graphic, Leah’s been missing Glen Coco—her vibrator—like she’d miss a limb.

“I love you,” she says.

“Birth control?” Paul asks. “You still use that?”

Well, in point of fact, she doesn’t. But her reproductive parts not working aren’t something she typically brings into the average conversation.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Rachel asks. “She was sleeping with you. I’d imagine she’d use titanium condoms.”

“You know, because her…bajingo…is on the fritz. Right, Clearwater?”

“Did you just refer to my uterus as a bajingo?” Leah asks. “Cease and desist, Lahote.”

“It’s a legitimate question!” he protests.

“What does he mean, your bajingo is on the fritz?” the Glampire asks.

Leah sighs. “Ever since I turned into a wolf, I’ve been sans period. As for why he can’t say _vagina_ , I assume it’s brain damage.”

The Glampire blinks. “Really?”

“I assure you, being menopausal at age twenty isn’t something I brag about.”

“Yikes,” Rachel says. “I think that’s our sign to go. Same time next week? You can come too, Rosalie.”

“Are you sure?” Rosalie asks. “I don’t think your pack or whatever will like it.”

“Fuck it,” Rachel says. “I’m not a part of any pack, and Leah’s alpha’s trying to fuck your sister-in-law. You seem like fun.”

Rosalie actually grins. “Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.”

* * *

In the car on the way home, it’s much less awkward.

“You want me to kick that werewolf’s ass?” Rosalie asks, once they’re out of the parking lot.

“Nah, Paul’s harmless. Stupid, but harmless.” The others had been a lot worse. At least Paul never asked shit like how she was PMSing if she couldn’t MS anymore, or if this meant that she was biologically not a woman, or why Sam wasn’t stepping in to raise her wolf cub.

She and Paul had always had a sort of an understanding, seeing as they were the angry bitches of the Pack. Even before they started sleeping together. Even when he uses words like “bajingo.”

Rosalie doesn’t say anything for a while. “You want me to kick any other werewolves’ asses?”

Leah can tell she would, too. “Thanks,” she says genuinely. “But I’m good. Most of them are too scared to say anything anymore.”

Rosalie shrugs. “You let me know. The offer stands.”

Leah glances over. “Why?” It’s not an argument or a defense. For some reason, Rosalie kind of _gets_ it.

Rosalie takes a breath, clenches her fingers on the wheel. “I really wanted a kid,” she admits. “When I was human. But then I was raped, beaten, left for dead, and woke up undead. My bajingo’s on the fritz, too.”

Oh. Oh, shit.

There’s really only one thing Leah can say to that.

“Well, fuck Bella Swan, that fertile bitch.”

Rosalie giggles, the heavy mood in the convertible gone. “Amen.”


	7. no doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, there ain't no doubt--I think I'm gonna call him out.

Leah is in such a good mood, it takes a whole five minutes before the vamps drag her down. It’s practically a new record.

She doesn’t mean to lose her shit. She really doesn’t. She has fought like hell to get her temper under control in the hope that she won’t have to keep doing this forever. And she had thought she’d dealt with her—her _Sam_ shit, for want of a better word.

But when she watches the leech-fucker use Jake like a puppet, manipulate him into dancing for her and protecting her baby, and she just sort of…snaps.

Jake leaves, and Leah has the foresight to wait until he’s out of earshot before she turns to Bella Swan and asks, almost conversationally, “So is it a sex thing, or what?”

“What?” she asks.

Leah shrugs, forces herself to keep the rage out of her voice. “You, continually fucking over Jake. Your manipulation. That bullshit that maybe one day you’ll pick him and how much you love him and couldn’t do this without him, while you ride that fucker over there. Is it a sex thing, or are you just a monster bitch?”

Bella looks near tears, which Leah supposes isn’t so difficult when you’re forty-thousand weeks pregnant. “E-excuse me?”

“I’m just curious,” Leah says. “Me, when I like someone, I try to make things easier for them. You know, not put them through unnecessary, agonizing heartbreak day to day just to get my rocks off. But then, I guess I’m not a selfish asshole. ‘Sjust not my kink. So I’m curious.”

She notices, behind the white-hot rage, that the room is silent except for Bella’s tears. And somehow, she knows that the redhead creep is behind her and vividly fantasizing about breaking her neck.

Leah doesn’t really blame him. Sometimes, she’s a monster bitch too.

“If you fucking touch me,” she says, spinning around and advancing on the creep, “I will rip your hand off, and I will _sodomize_ you with that hand. Do you understand?” He doesn’t really react, but he can definitely read that she’s not fucking around.

“Get out of my home,” he says quietly, venomously.

Leah turns back to Bella, who is now openly weeping. “You’re a terrible person,” she says. To the ginger, she says, “You can suck a dick.”

And then, because Leah isn’t stupid, she starts running.


	8. She’s fucked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.

She has about a twenty-minute head start before Jake finds out about the conversation.

_Seriously, Leah?_

Crap. Leah stops running the patrol route and waits for Jake to rip her a new one.

_She’s not a terrible person, you know._

Well. Agree to disagree on that one. Leah wisely says nothing. She’s already in for a shitstorm, there’s no need to add to it all. _So, how much trouble am I in?_

_Just…can you leave her alone? You don’t have to like her, just don’t antagonize her._

That’s fair. Leah agrees readily. She picks back up on the patrol route, feeling infinitely lighter. She doesn’t want to piss off her new Alpha. She won’t go back.

_So, what set you off?_

Leah screeches to a halt so fast, she literally tips over. This may be the first follow-up question that she’s ever been asked about her personal life. The Pack isn’t known for…well, caring about her.

_Leah? You okay?_

_I’m fine,_ she says, shaking herself to remove the leaf litter. _Just surprised._ Though she tries to rein it in, she knows that Jake can see she’s thinking about the last time someone directed an actual question toward her. Unfortunately, it’s the time Brady asked her where her boobs went when she phased.

_Look, she was just—she reminds me of Sam_ , Leah says. She hopes that’s enough. _And worse,_ she adds, trying for some levity, _you’re reminding me of me._

Jake doesn’t say anything for a little while. _Leah…_ he says. _What actually happened with you and Sam?_

There are a lot of things that Leah doesn’t talk about. Her relationship with Paul. Missing her father after, you know, killing him and all that. That time she had a sex dream about Dr. Acula.

Sam tops that list.

Leah fakes nonchalance. _You know what happened._ Sam made the mistake, once, of trying to do that thing that Bella does. He told her that she was the only one who could really help him and support him and some other bullshit.

Leah’s not proud of how she handled that one. But in her defense, he shouldn’t have been standing in front of her car when he tried it.

_Why do you hate him so much?_ Jacob presses. _Sam loves you, I’ve seen it._

Leah sighs. _He doesn’t love me,_ she says. _And even if he did, what the fuck does that matter? Loving someone isn’t an excuse to treat them like shit._ She starts running the route again.

_You haven’t made it easy for him, Leah._

Leah doesn’t say anything for a little bit. _Your not-girlfriend got engaged and you got to run off to Canada,_ she says finally. _Sam dumped me to fuck my cousin and I tried to be understanding, I told him that I would eventually deal with it but that I needed space and time, and he Alpha-voice forbade me from leaving the goddamn peninsula. So don’t you dare try to pretend that I haven’t tried to make this fucking bullshit work. You ran off when you got a wedding invitation. I’ve spent six months listening to my ex-boyfriend’s inner monologue, watching my cousin take my place, wear_ my _fucking ring—_

_Ring? What ring?_

Fuck.

* * *

Leah doesn’t talk about this. To anyone. Not to Rachel, not to her mom, and certainly not to anyone who grows a tail.

But back in December, before Leah’s entire life fell apart, Emily had called her and said she was coming down for Christmas. “Oh,” she said, tacking it on like it was an afterthought. “You should definitely get your nails done before then.”

Emily is notorious for having exactly zero chill.

Leah had giggled. “Oh, should I expect a small box under the tree?”

The line went awkwardly silent. Three seconds too late, Emily laughed.

Leah’s not dumb. She knows what that means.

Four days later, Sam ran into Emily at the grocery store. The next thing Leah knows, Sam dumps her two days before Christmas and is hanging around her cousin like white on rice (or, well, like the Leech-Fucker on a leech).

The reason Leah phased? Well, among other reasons, she saw that Sam and Emily got engaged. But more specifically, she saw the ring.

The ring that she remembered admiring at that jewelry store in Port Angeles, the one with the pattern of diamonds forming the constellation Leo. Leah’s birthday is July 29th. It seemed like fate.

Thing is, Emily’s a Sagittarius.


	9. you know nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you are young, they assume you know nothing--but I knew you.

Leah runs.

It’s never been scientifically proven that, if you can run as fast as Leah can, you can’t outrun your problems. Especially when your problem is a sixteen-year-old alpha who now knows the secret that Leah fully intended on taking to her grave.

Jake ends up phasing back about ten minutes later. Seth knows better than to try to talk to Leah when she’s upset.

Leah finally ends up running out her feelings somewhere around Ocean Springs.

Then, of course, she has to run back.

She doesn’t bother to make it all the way back to the Leech house. She can’t feel her feet after sprinting three hundred miles. She thinks she might be dying.

She ends up crashing in a cave off of First Beach, a small one no one knows about that Leah’s pretty sure she and Paul had sex in once. He’d wanted to check beach sex off his bucket list, and Leah had not wanted even the remotest possibility of discovery.

It was a hideous experience and one they had sworn never to bring up again. But at least the cave is out of the rain and a vamp-free zone, and Leah’s far too tired to worry about spiders crawling somewhere horrifying this time.

She barely makes it inside the cave before she completely passes out.

* * *

_Leah! Leah!_

Leah jerks up as Seth calls her. _What?_

 _Where are you?_ _Get here, now!_

Leah stretches, stands, shakes herself off. _I’m coming. What’s up?_

_I think Bella’s in labor._

Leah goes from a dead stop to a full sprint in two seconds.

Leah knows Sam. She knows too much about Sam. And this, right now, this is when she would strike, if she were Sam.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

She crests a hill overlooking the Vamp House and pauses for a moment. From up here, she can actually see everything going on and get a lay of the land, as it were. As she watches, Rosalie comes out holding a—well, it’s not any newborn that Leah’s ever seen, but she supposes it’s on par for the fucked-upedness of that house.

And then Mrs. Littlesea’s Hyundai drives by.

Shit. Shit shit shit fuck shit.

Leah would know that car anywhere. It’s still got the dent from when Sam was trying to impress her by doing donuts in the parking lot and ended up smashing into the driver’s side backseat door.

She takes off running down the hill. _BOLO_ , _Seth_. _We’ve got maybe a half-hour._

 _Copy,_ Seth says and continues to patrol.

And then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, Jacob storms out of the house, towards the baby. And then he stops.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck shit fuckity fuck fuck.

Leah knows that look almost better than she knows Sam. Any werewolf would. That is the look of someone who just imprinted.

And that means they’re in deep, _deep_ shit.


	10. crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't like that falling feels like flying til the bone crush.

Leah is the fastest fucker on the planet.

This is pretty much the only thing going through her mind when she puts the pieces together. She is the fastest fucker on the planet.

And this morning, she needs to earn it.

Leah takes off running faster than she’s ever gone before in her life. She blows past Seth in moments.

_Leah? What’s going on? Where are you going?_

Leah can’t think, can’t concentrate enough to put sentences together. All of her brainpower is focused on getting enough air into her lungs so she can break a land speed record. But she shows images, disjointed things—Mrs. Littlesea’s Hyundai, the baby, Emily, Sam, Sam’s house, the Pack—and she hopes Seth can put it together.

She bunches up and leaps over a creek, takes the slight pause to say, _Go back. Tell Jake._ If Seth responds, she can’t hear it over the roaring in her ears.

She clears the thirty miles to Sam’s house in an unreasonably short time, and she is _paying_ for it _._ If she weren’t so goddamn scared, she is sure that her every muscle would be screaming.

As she approaches his front porch, she leaps again, phases back into a person, and slams into the front door with so much force that the door actually cracks a little bit.

Holy shit, _ow_.

She straightens up and starts banging on the door like a crazy person. It swings open faster than she expects, and she almost falls, but she reaches out and catches herself on the frame.

“Leah?” Sam asks. “What are you doing here?”

Leah tries to suck in enough air to respond. She just ends up coughing. “Call them off,” she finally manages.

“Call who off?” Sam asks. “Are you okay?” He reaches out a hand, which Leah regards with narrow eyes. If Sam thinks he can put a hand on her naked body, he will end up eating that hand.

“The baby,” Leah says. “Jake’s imprint.” She’s got her breathing under control (…ish), so she places her hands on her head and starts to pace.

“Leah, you’re not making any sense.”

Leah takes one more deep breath. “Jake imprinted on the baby, Sam,” she snaps. “You kill it, you kill Jake, you kill Seth, you kill me. Clear enough?”

“Wait, wait.” Sam pauses. “Bella’s baby? Jacob imprinted on Bella’s baby?”

Leah nods with exaggerated slowness.

“Are you sure?”

Leah glares at him. “No, Sam, I’m lying about this, the most easily verifiable thing in the world.”

Sam considers this. Leah may be an enormous pain in the ass, but she’s not a liar. Plus, it would literally only take her imminent death to get Leah within twenty feet of Sam and Emily’s sex cottage.

“I’ll call them off,” he agrees. “But I’d like to meet her.”

Leah stares blankly at him. “Who?”

“The baby. I’d like to see the baby.”

Leah blinks. Once. Twice. “…Why?”

Sam sighs. “Because she’s part of the family now?” Leah waits. After a long, awkward pause, he adds. “And…some people would probably feel better if this were independently verified.”

In Sam-speak, this means: _Jared thinks you’re a liar._ Which, well. Leah didn’t endear herself to the Pack when it came out that she (and Paul) had been lying about hooking up with Paul (and Leah). Which is bullshit, since it takes two to tango, but Leah’s been around the block enough times to know that the girl gets blamed for all indiscretions. She calls this the Jolie principle.

But also, and she cannot stress this enough, _fuck Jared_.

“Sure,” Leah says. “Let’s go.”

She phases in a single leap and starts to run.


	11. godforsaken mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't call me kid, don't call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.

Leah fully planned to shift, tell Seth and/or Jake everything, and then go take a nap.

Problem is, neither of them are online, as it were.

So instead, Leah begins to run back to the Cullens’ house. She is so goddamn exhausted, she can practically taste her lungs, but she’s still Leah goddamn Clearwater, and she will beat Sam back to the house if it kills her.

It probably will. If Sam shows up alone, he’ll probably be brutally murdered, which would lead to total war, massive carnage, and this whole stupid thing will be for nothing.

So Leah digs deep, takes off, and sets her usual pace.

It hurts. It hurts like nothing else ever has.

But she’s still Leah goddamn Clearwater, so she grits her teeth and makes it to the Cullens’ house a full three minutes before Sam shows up.

Seth, Jake, and the big, sexist vamp are coordinating something in hushed voices—all human, those _bastards_ —but they look up when she gets into the clearing.

“Leah,” Jake says. It’s…almost dismissive? It sounds a little bit hurt, even.

She rears, shifts back into human, and _immediately_ regrets that decision.

The lack of adrenaline, the lack of food, and the sheer exhaustion all hit her with the force of three separate semis. She almost falls over but catches herself just in time. “Sam’s on his way,” she croaks out. She’s learned a little bit from her last role as messenger. “I told him you imprinted. He wants to see.”

Then, because today is just that kind of fucking day, she bends at the waist and retches.

Jake says…something, but Leah can’t hear it over the rushing sound in her ears. She spits a few times on the ground. The good thing about not having eaten in a day and a half is that all she’s throwing up is bile. The bad thing is, she hasn’t eaten in a day and a half, and she’s throwing up bile.

Seth dashes away and returns momentarily with a bottle of water and a bathrobe. He drapes the robe over Leah’s shoulders, opens the water, and presses it into her hand. After a few sips, she straightens up, practically human again.

Well. Ish.

She slowly slips the robe on and ties it loosely. The movement makes her whimper a little bit.

“What happened?” Jake asks. “Are you okay?”

It’s the same question that Sam asked her, not fifteen minutes ago. She’d ignored it then. She’ll ignore it now. They don’t actually care about her answer. “Colin was staking out the house,” she says. “Rose took the baby outside. I saw his car drive off.” She has some more water, mostly because she doesn’t have any food handy. “Then you imprinted. I went to tell Sam. He called them off. He wants to meet it. Her.”

“Where was Sam? In the forest?”

Leah shakes her head and immediately regrets it. “His house.”

“But you were only gone for twenty minutes.” It’s about thirty miles from the Leech house to Sam’s; the average wolf can do it in fifteen minutes. Leah usually does it in twelve.

Factoring in the two minutes of talking to Sam and the twelve-minute run back, Leah ran that thirty miles in about six minutes. No wonder she feels like she died. “Yeah,” she says. “That tracks.”

It’s then that Sam shows up. He still runs around with track pants tied to his leg—something Leah did for, like, two weeks, tops—so he’s at least partially covered. Which is probably for the best. He’s doing that stoic-leader thing, which Leah knows comes only from four years of attempting to cultivate a Bruce Willis kind of vibe. It’s really only partially successful. “Hello, Jacob. Seth.”

Then he gets to Leah, who’s still standing over a little puddle of vomit looking like a literal zombie corpse, and his face instantly changes into a look of concern. “Jesus, Leah, what happened? What did you do?” He even lunges toward her, like she’s about to faint or something. As if she’d ever willingly let him within six feet of her.

Someone growls. It takes Leah a second to realize it’s not her.

“If my sister wanted your help, she would ask for it,” Seth says quietly.

Sam attempts a smile. “You’re a good kid, Seth. Leah’s lucky to have you.”

Seth does not return the smile. He doesn’t even bother to answer; he just continues to Death Stare Sam into submission.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks. He mimics Seth’s tone, if unconsciously.

“I’m here to meet your imprint, brother.”

“Jared thinks I’m a liar,” Leah adds. “It’s part of the deal.”

Both alphas look over to glare at her, though Jake does look slightly amused.

“Leah,” Jake says, and yeah, he’s definitely a little bit amused. “You should go inside and get something to eat. You must be exhausted. Seth, can you go get Bl—Rosalie?”

Leah knows a dismissal when she hears one. She pulls her shoulders back, spine ruler-straight, and, with one last contemptuous look at Sam, she walks into the house.


	12. new shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing good, I'm on some some new shit. Been saying yes instead of no.

The problem is, Leah hates this damn house.

Everything about it makes her skin crawl. It’s not just the vampire thing, it’s the white people thing, the immortal thing, and—especially—the sheer goddamned opulence for a group of people that could literally live in a cave without noticing.

“Hey,” the big, sexist vamp says. Leah jumps slightly; she didn’t realize he was sitting in the couch. She thought he was still outside. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

There has never been a sentence in the history of ever that has begun “Don’t take this the wrong way” and ended without someone saying something offensive, but Leah doesn’t have the energy to kill him. Instead, she pauses just inside the doorway and waits for him to finish his sure-to-be-rage-inducing sentence.

“But I’ve never in my life seen anyone who looks like they need McDonald’s more than you.”

Well. There’s probably an offensiveness to be found, but Leah can’t hear it over the thought of fries. “So?” she says finally.

The vamp grins and holds up a set of car keys. “You wanna go? My treat.”

“…Yes.”

* * *

The big, sexist vamp drives a goddamn Wrangler, like Leah didn’t already know he was a meathead. But she’s not going to insult the man with the keys to getting her food.

“I’m so excited,” he confesses, like a little kid with a secret. “I’ve never gotten to make a McDonald’s run, and I’ve been looking forward to this for forward to this for _years_. Can you get a shake? God, I miss milkshakes.”

Leah doesn’t even know how to react to this. That said, a milkshake does sound absolutely delicious. “Yeah, okay.” Then, as she gets into the car. “Any reason you’re being so nice to me?”

He climbs into the cab and shrugs. “You seem like you’ve been dealt a shit hand. Besides, you’re nice to Rose. Not many people are.” He starts the car and begins pulling out of the driveway. “Plus, and I cannot stress this enough, I have been waiting to make a McDonald’s pilgrimage since 1956.”

Leah snorts, despite herself. “That’s it? I’ve got bad luck, and I’m nice to your girlfriend?”

“Also, you eat. Very important quality in a McDonald’s run. Can you get a Happy Meal? I’ve always wanted one of those crappy toys. You know, I almost convinced everyone to stop there and get them on a road trip back when the Beanie Baby thing was going nuts, but then Alice told everyone the whole thing was a scam.”

“That’s true,” she agrees. “I do eat.”

Emmett bounces in his seat. “I can’t wait. I need more friends that eat.”

As they pull up to the drive-through, Leah turns to him. “Do you want to place the order?”

“Can I?”

“I want two Big Macs, two orders of the ten-piece nuggets, four large fries, and a chocolate shake,” Leah says. “Oh, and a Happy Meal with the four-piece nuggets, a Coke, and the boy’s toy.”

Emmett legit looks like Christmas came early. “Can I keep the toy?”

“Knock yourself out.”

* * *

Leah’s hit “food coma” territory.

Right around the second box of nuggets and the third carton of fries, she starts feeling like someone mixed an Ambien into her sweet-and-sour sauce. One second, she’s shoveling in mass quantities of takeout, the next she’s trying not to face plant into the wrappers.

Emmett, as he is still flipping his little fighter jet/Transformer robot back and forth, doesn’t seem to notice.

At least she knows he won’t steal her fries.

Just as Leah leans her head against the window and starts to drift off, something starts ringing.

“Yeah? No, she’s here.”

If Leah wanted to, she could probably hear who’s on the other line. She’s not Seth, who has creepy-good ears, but she can hold her own. But she’s really too tired to care.

“Yeah, we went to McDonald’s. Pheidippides was whipped, man, she needed fries.” A pause. “Pheidippides? Ran the Marathon? No, I mean, he literally initiated the marathon, he didn’t win the Olympics. Come on, dude. Open a book.”

Leah would make a mental note to Google Pheidippides, if she thought her mind was capable of making mental note. Still, she kind of likes the ring of it.

“Yeah, sure, I can drop her off. Be there soon.”

He hangs up, carefully places the Transformer in the cupholder, and speeds off.

Leah gives up the ghost and lets herself fall asleep.


End file.
